“Now you need me?” No word could describe the level of anger on his face. He laughed harshly. “You want my bone marrow?”
“I’m sorry, Blake,” she shrugged. “I was angry at the way you treated me then.”
“So that was your revenge?” He glared at her. “Keeping a child away from me for eight good years.”
“Blake please,” she held her palms up. “I accept any blame you want to put on me. Just please help me save our son’s life.”
“How am I even sure that he’s mine?” he retorted with his hands in his pocket. “I am not going to do it. Count me out of this.”
Her temper flared. She couldn’t believe what he just said. “Are you accusing me of infidelity, Blake?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
He said nothing. Anger blazed in his own eyes too.
“How dare you, Blake Alexander Carter?” She shouted at the top of her voice, ignoring the voice in the back of her head telling her to continue to beg him. “You betrayed me, you cheated on me and you also deceived me! So I had no reason to tell you had a child with me!” She stood up, “you have no right… absolutely no right to look into my eyes and judge me! Fuck you Blake!”
“What?” It surprised him to hear her talk like that.
“Fuck you, Blake Carter,” she picked her purse off his desk. “Fuck you, fuck you! I don’t need your help again. I will find other options. Good day.”
She stormed out of his office, hurried through Vanessa’s office. Hurried into the elevator and jumped out the moment it got to the ground floor. It was drizzling already. She didn’t stop until she got to the taxi waiting for him and knocked slightly on the window.
The driver came out quickly and opened the passenger door for her.
“Please take me back to the hotel,” she pleaded as she set her head back on the headrest.
“Damn it!” Blake muttered as Tasha stormed out of his office angrily.
Vanessa rushed into his office, with concern boldly written on her face.
“Mr. Carter, is everything alright?”
“Yes,” he forced a laugh. “Vanessa, everything is fine.”
She didn’t believe him. She stood searching his face.
“Vanessa, I want to be alone,” he said sternly.
“Oh. Okay, Mr. Carter,” she adjusted her glasses on her nose and walked out.
Blake walked to the window, his heart beating against his ribcage so furiously.
“I have a son,” he muttered to himself, putting his hands in his pockets. “Unbelievable.”
He felt like a stranger in a world that had suddenly shifted beneath his feet.
“And he’s sick,” a gentle voice spoke in his heart. He knew the boy must surely be his, it was just anger that made him say to Tasha that how was she sure he was the father. He started pacing the floor of his office.
He could still hear Tasha’s voice echoing in his ears, the anger and resentment in her tone. Blake felt a pang of guilt, even in his furious state. He knew he caused everything.
He walked briskly to the door. He knew he had to talk to someone before he lost his mind. And his father was the only person who he could talk to that was around. He got into his office and didn’t even bother to know on the door before he burst inside.
“Blake? What’s wrong?” His father asked with one look at Blake’s face.
“Dad, you remember Tasha?” He set his hands on Gerald’s desk, still on his feet. “She just left my office.”
“What about her?” He dropped his pen on his desk.
Blake went ahead to tell him what had just happened.
“Yes, Dad, I am fucking serious.”
“Language, young man,” Gerald retorted.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized. “Tasha’s revelation hit me so hard, I am dumbfounded right now.”
Blake walked to the liquor cabinet at the far end of the office and poured a generous amount of whiskey
“Who does that? Keep away a child for eight years?” He took all the drink in a long swallow of his drink, the burn of the whiskey a fleeting comfort against the ache in his chest. He picked the whiskey bottle and poured another drink.
“Be careful there, son,” Gerald warned.
He nodded, but continued with what he was doing, anyway. All he wanted was to drown the shock in his drink. Hoping it would numb his senses.
“Can you imagine, dad?” He walked back to his father’s desk. Drink in hand. “The little boy is sick, and she wants me to donate my bone marrow cell for his treatment.”
He took a long swallow, the burn of the whiskey a fleeting comfort against the ache in his chest. He needed answers, needed to understand. But for now, all he could do was drown the shock in the amber liquid, hoping it would wash away the questions that swirled in his mind.
“I think that’s her way of getting back at you,” Gerald told his son.
“Sure that,” he pointed his glass cup at his father. “She mentioned that herself.”
He walked to the wide French window, taking another gulp of his drink.
“So, what are you going to do now?” The older Carter asked.
“I already told her I won’t do it.”
“I didn’t ask about what you told her,” he narrowed his eyes at Blake. “I asked, “What are you going to do?”
He looked away from his father with hands in his pockets. His gaze drifted to the raindrops that tapped persistently against the windowpane, mirroring the bedlam in his head.
*******
Back in the hotel room, Tasha sank dejectedly into the plush armchair beside her bed.
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” she chided herself. Regret washed over her as she replayed the incident in Blake’s office over and over in her mind.
“I should have begged him,” she thought to herself. “Instead, I allowed my temper to get in the way.” She rubbed her eyes.